


Role Reversal

by ivory_leigh



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Micro Fic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 14:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11969355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivory_leigh/pseuds/ivory_leigh
Summary: "Your sacrifice was illogical.""No," McCoy says. He thinks of strange alien hands on him, whipping him, beating him, tearing skin from bone and he lets his bloodied head fall back against Spock’s shoulder. “No, it wasn't."





	Role Reversal

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this: https://intergalacticsock.tumblr.com/post/163451271679/role-reversal

“Leonard,” a voice says, so close McCoy can feel the breath of the word on his face. He manages to slit his eyes open just enough to see Spock bending over him, fingers wrapped around his bound wrists. “Leonard, can you hear me?” 

“I hear you,” McCoy mumbles, grimacing as Spock pulls him up to sit against the stone wall. “What took you so long?” 

“I identified the cell to which they’d taken you as quickly as I could,” Spock says, but there’s something tight and strained in his face that McCoy thinks might be panic. “I did not realize the extent of the damage inflicted—” 

His red blood is dark and muddy against Spock’s green-tinged skin. 

“Chapel’s gonna kill me,” McCoy says, looking down at himself, shreds of skin and fabric hanging off his body. The pain is throbbing, distant, like it belongs to someone else. 

“That is not my current concern.” Spock draws a knife from his belt and cuts the rope around his hands with a gentleness McCoy hadn’t known he was capable of, two fingers curled around his wrist to steady him. “We must get you out of here. Can you walk?” 

“Um,” McCoy says, because his head feels like it’s been screwed on crooked. “I, I don’t know. I—” 

The Vulcan pulls him to his feet and McCoy staggers, almost crashes to the ground again before Spock manages to catch him. He must have a concussion because everything is jumping and spinning around him, dancing in and out of focus. “Spock,” he manages, his vision turning black around the edges, “Spock, I think I’m gonna pass out.” His knees buckle. His mouth fills with the taste of metal. 

Spock lowers him back to the floor and McCoy closes his bruised eyes, hands clenching just to keep himself grounded. “Leonard?” Spock asks. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, just—” 

“Spock?” someone says, and Spock pulls the communicator from his pocket, flicks it open with one hand. “Spock, did you find him? Is everything okay?” 

“He is injured, Captain,” Spock answers, and there’s a tremble in his voice that McCoy thinks might be a side effect of his own concussion: hearing things that aren’t really there. “I will bring him out as soon as it is safe to do so.” 

“Try to hurry,” Kirk says. “I took care of the guards but there might be more of them on the way.”  

McCoy let’s his head fall back against the wall with a dull thud, reaches one hand out to take hold of Spock’s sleeve. “Spock, “ he whispers, eyes still closed.“I—I’m not gonna be able to walk out of here.” 

“I will carry you.” 

Spock slides one arm under McCoy’s shoulders and the other beneath the crook of his knees and lifts him up, the world tilting wildly beneath them. McCoy pushes another wave of nausea down. “You and Jim,” he croaks, “did—are you okay? Did they hurt you?” 

“The captain and I are both well,” Spock says, shouldering the cell door open, and then he adds, more softly, “Your sacrifice, although illogical, ensured our continued health.” 

McCoy chuckles, the sound wet and thick in his throat. He remembers everything only in flashes: the pain in his knees from crouching, the yellow torch light, the voices. “I thought I was being real logical. They saw me. If I didn’t stand up they when they told me to they’d’ve come into the bushes and found us all.” 

“Three of us may have been able to escape where any single one of us could not.” 

“No,” McCoy says. He thinks of strange alien hands on him, whipping him, beating him, tearing skin from bone and he lets his head fall back against Spock’s shoulder. “We couldn’t have.” 

They pass out of the dungeon and into the sunlight, and McCoy hears Kirk before he sees him, a startled gasp of, “Bones!” 

“‘M okay,” McCoy mumbles, turning to look at him. He’s more put together than Spock, hair still in place, uniform still intact for a goddamn change, and McCoy smiles as Kirk puts a hand out to touch his bloodied shoulder.

“What did they  _ do  _ to you?” Kirk asks, and then, “Oh God, Bones, we should have—” 

“Captain,” Spock cuts in, and his voice is soft. “I believe it is in the doctor’s best interest to get back on board the ship as soon as possible.” 

“Yes, of—of course.” His hand tightens around McCoy’s shoulder until it burns, and and when he lets go to reach for his communicator McCoy’s vision grays out along the edges. He isn’t sure he’s going to make it through the transport with all his senses still intact. “Scotty?” Kirk says into the silver mouthpiece, “We have a party of three to beam aboard.” 

Almost immediately a shimmer of light surrounds them and McCoy feels the ground disappear beneath their feet, feels the molecules themselves swirling around him, moving and swaying like a ship lost at sea. He’s never liked using the transporter even on the best of days; now he fists his hands in Spock’s uniform and shuts his eyes, his heart pounding in his ears. He’s so dizzy. He can feel his consciousness starting to slip away.

The last thing he remembers is the sound of Scotty’s voice and the feel of Spock’s arms tightening around him, warm and solid and very, very real. 


End file.
